


Gasolina

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergio is heartbroken and finds himself in the red light district. Fernando steps out of the shadows and makes him an offer he can't refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gasolina

“Sergio, leave that for Monday,” Iker coaxed, leaning his head tiredly on the cool wood of the doorframe.

Sergio looked up from his computer. “Just a few more charts, Iker. I’m almost done.”

“You said that two hours ago,” Iker reminded. “Everyone’s left the office.”

The Sevillan smiled apologetically but kept typing away frantically. “It’s just that,” he sighed exasperatedly, “There must be something wrong with these numbers. I can’t get the fucking derivation!” Sergio yelped, running his hands through his long brown hair in frustration.

Iker sighed and walked over to his friend’s desk. In one smooth move, he swiped close the file Sergio was reading.

“Hey!”

“On Monday again, Sergio,” Iker said, slipping the folder into the filing cabinet and pushing it shut. “Now, come on. It’s two in the morning.”

Sergio checked his watch and cursed. “Fine,” he relented, shut down his computer and cleared his desk.

“Finally,” Iker managed a wary laugh. The 23-year-old had entered the firm only a year ago and immediately shot up the ranks. But not without six-day workweeks and much-abused overtime shifts.

“I need a fucking raise,” Sergio said, gathering his hair into a messy ponytail. “Or a fucking promotion.”

“No,” Iker smirked at his friend as they entered the lifts, “You just need a fucking.”

Sergio glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Iker slung an arm around the Sevillan’s shoulders and ushered him to the parking lot. “Ever since you and Fernando Gago broke up, you’ve completely drowned yourself in work—more so than usual, and I didn’t even think that was possible.”

Sergio looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it—him,” he said quietly.

“Sergio, you need to get over him.”

“Well, it’s pretty bloody hard getting over a two-year relationship if his office is just next door to mine and I have to see him every single day!” Sergio gushed out furiously.

“Sorry, Sergi.” Iker’s face softened. “You know I’m just looking out for you.” He paused and tried again, “And maybe it would do you some good if you went out once in a while, tried to meet new people...”

Sergio cracked a smile. “Hey, I get some!”

“Sure,” Iker scoffed, “With your right hand or with your left?”

“Screw you.” Sergio burst out laughing and made his way to his parking space. “My car’s over in this wing,” he said, but before they could part ways, Iker called out, “Wait, Sergio!”

Sergio stopped and turned around. Iker ushered him over to his car.

“What?” Sergio asked impatiently as Iker dug inside his glove compartment.

Iker straightened up and grinned at the Sevillan. “Here.” He grabbed Sergio’s hand and dropped a couple of things into his hand: a couple of condoms and a tube of lube.

Burning a bright red, Sergio shoved it away. “I don’t need it.”

“Take it,” Iker shoved back. “You know I’m right.”

Sergio glowered but grudgingly put the articles into his pocket and stalked to his car.

“You’re a bastard, Casillas!” Sergio shouted as he walked away.

Iker poked his head out of his car window and yelled back, “Get fucked, Ramos!”

*

Gray silhouettes writhed feverishly in the shadows—in twos, threes, groups, scattered all over the street. It didn’t seem like Madrid ever went to sleep at night. Or at least not this part of town.

When Iker said he should meet new people, Sergio was pretty sure this wasn’t what he had in mind. But he had been too tired to party and couldn’t be bothered flirting with someone in the bar, so somehow, he found himself here.

Inching his car slowly down the narrow street, he nervously peered through the windshield at the dark figures standing on the sidewalk, waiting for customers.

He came to a stop near a man smoking a cigarette. Taking a deep breath, Sergio opened the window just a crack.

“Excuse me,” he said. “But do you know where I can find a... a...” Sergio trailed off. The stranger exhaled a thin wisp of smoke and snickered. “Look for Raul. He’s the man who controls this stretch.”

“Raul?”

“Yeah,” The man gestured with his cigarette to a spot further down the road where it seemed the busiest. “He usually hangs over there. You can’t miss him.”

Nodding, Sergio drove over the place the stranger pointed out. The crowd cleared and a man approached the side of Sergio’s car. That must be Raul, then. 

“Who do you want?” was the simple question.

“I—I don’t know, I’m just... I’m just looking around,” Sergio stammered.

Raul smiled, “Well, what are you looking for?”

A fuck? But Sergio doubted that was the answer the pimp was looking for.

Just by the corner, there was a young man bent over the hood of his car, legs spread wide apart, pants pushed down around his thighs. An older man rammed into him mercilessly, over and over again. Sergio’s guts twisted, and maybe he had gone without for much longer than he thought.

Raul followed Sergio’s gaze, then grinned. “Sorry, if you wanted a bitch, someone already took Cesc.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sergio spoke clearly to Raul outside. “Give me the best you’ve got.”

Raul raised his eyebrows and appraised the gleaming Rolex on Sergio’s arm and his sleek, new BMW. “The best I’ve got don’t come cheap.”

“Name the price.” Sergio snapped impatiently.

“One-shot or for the entire night?”

The couple on the car were moving erratically now, thrusting deeper, arching higher. They were close, Sergio could tell. They were far away from him, but it was as if their guttural moans reverberated inside his head. Sergio’s groin stirred urgently.

“For the night,” he answered, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“1500 up front. Service charge and tips not included.”

Sergio retrieved his wallet from the dashboard and handed the man a wad of cash. Raul counted the bills before nodding. He turned his head to a line of people huddled behind him and whistled.

“Niño, you’re up!”

A figure separated from the group. Tall. Lanky.

Sergio asked. “Top or bottom?”

“Either,” Raul waved his hand, dismissing the question.

“I can do it any which way. How do you want it?” The boy asked, stepping out of the shadows and under the weak light of the flickering streetlamp. Blond hair, thin lips, innocent smile betrayed by kohl around the eyes. Sergio’s mouth went dry.

“I—I’ll take him.” Sergio hurriedly nodded to Raul.

“Then it’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Raul smiled as he pocketed the payment. He popped open the door for his kid and ushered him inside. Winking at Sergio, he waved goodbye, “He’s all yours.”

*

A 20-minute drive later, Sergio’s arousal had subsided and given way to a knot of jangling nerves.

Tapping his key nervously against the railing of the elevator, Sergio watched as the numbers lit up with every floor they ascended. The tension was thick in the lift.

“I thought that by now we would be making out against the wall,” Sergio joked to break the heavy silence. “That’s how it always is in porn movies, right?”

“I could do that.” The boy glanced at him briefly, “But you don’t look like the hardcore type.”

Sergio’s jaw dropped. “What type am I then?”

The boy raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips. “The first-timer.”

Sergio let himself relax. “Am I that obvious?”

“For one, you didn’t have to bring me to a five-star hotel,” The boy pointed out good-naturedly.

Sergio laughed. “Which is why you’ll have to live up to your price tag.”

The lift doors opened and they walked down the carpeted corridors, scanning the rows of doors until they reached their room. Sergio was so nervous his hands were shaking as he tried to get the door open. A hand lightly covered his and took the keycard from him—soft and gentle. He looked up and the boy unlocked the door effortlessly for them.

“Whoa,” the boy let out a low whistle, stepping into the room, taking in the plush interiors. “Well, this is definitely better than being fucked up against the wall in a back-alley.” (Sergio groaned inwardly and tried not to dwell too much on that mental image.)

“I—I’m new to this,” Sergio blurted out. “I really don’t know how these things work.”

The boy stopped exploring the room and turned around to face Sergio. “What is there to know?”

“Er,” Sergio played with his tie. “How do you even start?”

The boy’s face broke into a smile again (Sergio decided he liked that smile) and he walked over to the mini-bar.

“This will help,” he said, rummaging inside.

“I don’t want to get smashed,” Sergio approached him, wondering what the hell this boy was up to.

The boy looked up from the mini-bar. “You’re not even going to get tipsy. This is just to calm the nerves.”

Sighing, Sergio bent down next to him and inspected the array of alcohol inside. “Fine, I’ll have a beer. You?”

“Baileys, please,” the boy said, snatching the small bottle and handing it to Sergio to open. Sergio poured the drink into a shot glass.

“Here,” he said, handing the shot glass to the boy. The boy smiled and Sergio should have sensed the mischief in those eyes as the boy approached him. The next thing he knew, the boy bent down, wrapped his lips around the shot glass, and in one fluid movement—hands behind the back, only the mouth gripped around the rim—knocked back the drink.

“Just to prove I’m worth the money,” the boy explained with a smirk, putting down the glass on the table.

Sergio gaped. Then hurriedly opened the beer can and chugged down all its contents.

“Then,” Sergio wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and moved closer to the boy, “What next?”

The boy pushed himself off the table and slowly walked over until he was face to face with Sergio.

“Well, it usually starts off with a kiss,” the boy said under his breath. Sergio nodded, took a deep breath then placed his lips softly on the boy’s.

“Okay, not bad,” the boy smiled when they pulled away. “And then,” he guided Sergio’s hands to his waist and wrapped his arms around Sergio’s neck, “Usually, we kiss some more.” He leaned forward and kissed Sergio, deeper this time. Sergio moaned softly as the boy gently slipped his tongue into his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit.

“Then, we undress.” The boy said breathlessly as they broke apart. Sergio nodded but seemed nervous. The boy chuckled, “Do you want me to go first?”

Sergio laughed, “Yeah.”

The boy kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks.

“Do the shoes always have to be the first to go?” Sergio asked.

“Yeah,” the boy grinned. “There’s no sexy way of taking them off and fucking someone with your socks on isn’t very hot.”

Sergio laughed and removed his leather shoes and office socks too.

“And then, everything else?” Sergio asked softly. The boy nodded, hands clutching the hem of his shirt to pull it off. Sergio watched wordlessly, breath getting shallower by the second even before the boy’s shirt fell to the carpet. He reached out—he couldn’t help it—and ran his fingers over the flat plane of the boy’s chest, digging into the well-defined cuts. The boy arched into his touch and moaned and the heat in Sergio’s gut returned.

The boy reached down to undo his jeans, but Sergio swapped his hands away. “I’ll do it,” he said, and the boy nodded obediently, bringing his arms around Sergio’s shoulders instead. His fingernails dug deliciously into Sergio’s back as the boy avidly watched Sergio’s hands pop open the button and brought down the zipper. Sergio dropped to his knees on the floor, pulling down the heavy denim along with him. The boy stepped out of his trousers and impatiently discarded them, but Sergio took his time making his way back up, letting his hands roam over those long, toned calves, the sensitive skin of the boy’s inner thighs, and briefly—just the briefest of feather touches—over the bulge in the boy’s underwear.

“Freckles,” Sergio grinned, tracing a dust of freckles sprinkled over the boy’s hipbone. The boy tried to keep his breathing steady as he felt Sergio’s breath blowing over his skin. But his eyes rolled to the back of his head when Sergio leaned over to trace his hipbone with the tip of his nose, then with a hot tongue, then with sloppy open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh god,” the boy murmured, hands gripping Sergio’s hair to keep him in place. “You’re not even undressed yet.”

Sergio pulled away and stood up, grinning, “That’s not a problem.” He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, the garment easily slipping over his shoulders and to the floor. The boy nodded appreciatively and climbed on to the bed. The sight of the boy stretched out over the mattress was enough to make Sergio hurriedly kick off his pants and underwear.

Bringing the condoms and lube with him, Sergio approached the bed. “It’s been a long time since...” He trailed off sheepishly.

The boy sat up and pushed Sergio down onto his back, straddling his hips with ease. “Then let me show you how it’s done first.” Gulping down some air, Sergio agreed and spread his legs. He could only watch lustfully as the boy removed his briefs, slipped a condom easily on his throbbing cock, then to Sergio’s.

“Relax,” the boy whispered soothingly to his ear. Sergio shuddered, feeling two slick fingers run down his crack and prod at his entrance.

“Jesus Christ,” Sergio cursed, feeling the burning pain of being stretched as the two fingers pushed into him steadily. With his other hand, the boy rubbed their cocks together, the tantalizing friction distracting Sergio from the stinging in his behind.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked, his voice deep and sensual. Sergio nodded, the pain slowly ebbing away as he got used to the feeling of being filled again. He bucked his hips forward, trying to get more inside him. The boy obediently twisted and thrust his fingers in and out of Sergio’s ass in return.

“I’m fine now, get on with it,” Sergio said with gritted teeth, blood pumping through his veins.

The boy laughed and pulled his fingers out. Sergio moaned as he felt the head of the boy’s cock rub against his hole.

“Wait,” Sergio said, hands pushing against the boy’s chest.

“What’s wrong?” The boy asked worriedly.

“This might be strange, but,” Sergio bit his lip uncertainly. “...Can I call you Fernando?”

The boy stopped, stunned. Sergio hastily tried to explain, “No, it’s just that my boyfriend was named Fernando and we just broke up. H-he’s the last person I’ve done this with.”

“It’s okay,” Fernando interrupted, waving away the reason. “What do I call you?”

“Sergio.”

Fernando smiled and nodded, bending forward again, hands securely planted on the bed on either side of Sergio’s face. Guiding his hips down, he slowly pushed his cock inside Sergio.

“Oh god, Fernando,” Sergio moaned loudly, feeling the delicious friction of the erection moving inside him, filling him to the hilt.

The way Sergio said his name sent shivers down Fernando’s spine, as he pulled out completely before thrusting back in again. They both groaned out and moved against each other, desperately trying to reach their climax.

“Too fucking tight,” Fernando panted out, as he hitched one of Sergio’s legs higher up his torso and the other hooked around his shoulder so he could slam in deeper. Sergio screamed as the shift made Fernando’s cock brush against his prostate. Taking the hint, Fernando angled his hips so every thrust he made directly hit Sergio’s sensitive spot again and again.

“Fucking hell, Fernando,” Sergio panted, cheeks flushed, sweat liberally trickling down the side of his face as they rocked in unison. “I’m going to come,” he groaned, cocking rubbing against Fernando’s rock-hard abs every time he bucked forward to meet Fernando’s thrusts. Finally, Sergio’s eyes squeezed shut and he came shouting Fernando’s name. Sergio’s orgasm made him clamp down hard on Fernando’s cock, and it wasn’t long after Fernando went over the edge as well, groaning as he came inside the hot, hot heat of the Sevillan.

*

Sergio’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he was and why he was there because this was definitely not his bed and that ache in his body was not a good sign. But when he sat up and glimpsed around, he remembered why.

The glass doors to the balcony were open and Fernando was outside, elbows folded over the railing, bedsheet draped around his waist, peering thoughtfully at the city below.

“Hey,” Sergio greeted softly, padding outside.

Fernando looked up, startled, but he relaxed when he saw Sergio approach him, moonlight glistening over the endless expanse of bronze skin. “I was waiting for you to wake up,” he said and raised Sergio’s pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Can I bum a fag?”

Sergio smirked. “You already did, but yes, you can do it again.”

Fernando’s forehead wrinkled, but he immediately burst out laughing once he understood the joke. Sergio returned his grin. It was too infectious. He took the lighter from Fernando.

“Here,” Sergio offered, flicking open the lighter and the flame danced delicately.

Fernando peered at him tentatively before shrugging. He placed the cigarette between his lips and bent down so Sergio could light the fag for him.

“Thanks,” Fernando said under a thin trail of smoke, avoiding Sergio’s searching gaze and focusing on the Madrid cityscape before them instead.

“So, what’s your story?” Sergio asked, breaking the silence.

Fernando took a long drag before asking back, “What story?”

Sergio shrugged and leaned back on the balcony, “I told you my story.” He took a deep breath as he continued, “Of this guy called Fernando Gago and our break-up and why I’m here tonight. What’s your story?”

Fernando drummed his fingers on the gold-plated railing. “I don’t have a story.”

“That’s impossible,” Sergio protested. “How did you become a...”

“A prostitute?” Fernando completed for him.

“Well, yeah,” Sergio admitted.

“The usual. Too young, too reckless, too many wrong turns.” Fernando handed him the half-smoked cigarette and turned around so he could lean back on the railing like Sergio. He shrugged nonchalantly and continued, “I chose this the same way people choose what they do to survive. There’s no sob story, no moral lesson.”

Sergio nodded slowly before smoking what was left of Fernando’s cigarette. “So, you chose it, and here you are now.”

“Yes,” Fernando replied. He let his head fall back and he watched the sky, the thin red angry lines of daybreak slowly raking into the dark blue canopy. “Here I am now, selling love every night.”

Sergio scoffed, stubbing the cigarette on the railing before bitterly throwing it on the floor. “You can’t sell love.”

“Sure, you can,” Fernando laughed lightly. He tore his eyes away from the sky and glanced at Sergio mockingly, “What did you think you were looking for tonight? ...Sex?”

Sergio’s jaw dropped, but he couldn’t bring himself to simply answer “yes” and end the issue. Somehow he knew Fernando wouldn’t be convinced and neither would he.

It was a sweltering night. The air was heavy and damp, the wind feeble, that when Sergio grabbed Fernando’s arm and spun him around, pressed him so hard against the balcony he was sure the railings were digging into the boy’s ribs, their skin was covered in a layer of sweat, making them slide effortlessly atop each other.

“What’s your name?” Sergio breathed hotly against Fernando’s ear, one hand expertly ripping off the bedsheet from the older man’s waist.

“You wouldn’t need to know,” Fernando answered, and Sergio could hear the defiance, the insolence in his tone. Angered, he entered Fernando from behind in one hard thrust, the sweat and pre-cum their only lube. Fernando screamed in pain.

“Tell me,” Sergio demanded impatiently. His fingers dug into Fernando’s hips as he kept himself sheathed inside him.

Fernando let his head drop against the cool metal railing as he struggled to catch his breath. “It wouldn’t matter,” he muttered laboriously, his body shaking uncontrollably at the sudden penetration, “If you were just looking for sex.”

“Your real name.” Sergio commanded as he thrust into Fernando harshly again. The boy groaned, his voice hoarse at the edges, tears pricking his eyelids as the stinging shot every nerve in his body.

“What if I told you,” Fernando whispered breathlessly, as he looked back to glimpse at Sergio, “That you can just keep calling me Fernando?”

Sergio was stunned, but he didn’t lose time, immediately cupping the Madridista’s chin and kissing him fervently, and their tongues entwined and battled for dominance.

“Fernando,” Sergio murmured, and the name breathed over the back of Fernando’s neck, making him shiver despite the stifling humidity. “I’m sorry,” Sergio said, ashamed. “Fucking hell, I’m sorry,” the Sevillan kept saying over and over again as he pulled out of Fernando and let his hands rub the boy’s side soothingly.

And Fernando’s received so much worse than this battering before, but he let his head fall back on Sergio’s strong shoulder, molding his back against the other’s chest, sighing softly in pleasure as Sergio licked at his neck. Sergio lapped greedily at Fernando’s skin, salty with sweat, but not wanting to lose the taste at the tip of his tongue. He licked along his neck, sucked along his shoulder blades before kissing across his freckled back.

“Sergio,” Fernando moaned, reaching back to touch the Sevillan. “Fuck me properly.” Sergio nodded and Fernando was shuddering next as the sensation of a cold, slick finger fondled along the line of his ass. Sergio fucked Fernando with long, thorough thrusts, their bodies melded with each other as they moved in unison, hips rolling forwards and back excruciatingly slowly.

Fernando doesn’t think he’s come that hard in a long time. And for someone who had to do it every night, that was saying something. Sergio turned him around and leaned his forehead against his. And while Sergio’s gazing into his eyes and caressing his cheek, placing a timid kiss on his lips, Fernando decides this is getting too tricky.

“I—I should go,” Fernando said weakly, his knees shaky and about to give out.

“What? No!” Sergio shook his head, “Stay.”

Fernando pushed past him and entered the cold hotel room, shivering as the air-conditioning hit his sweat-soaked skin. “You paid me for the night and we’re done. I should go.”

“Then I’ll pay you again!” Sergio said adamantly.

Well, he’ll be fucked if this was about money. “No,” Fernando said with finality as he moved to gather his clothes strewn on the floor. But Sergio grabbed his arm and stopped him, looking into his eyes imploringly and Fernando knew inside he really didn’t expect anything other than this.

“Fernando,” Sergio sighed, “Please.”

And Sergio was cheating because he had only convinced Fernando to at least take a shower before leaving, and the next thing he knew, Sergio had leaned him against the tiles and dropped to his knees. The last thing Fernando remembered was his voice echoing in the bathroom and the moan he failed to gulp down. The water was hot and Sergio’s mouth was burning, and for a fraction of a second, Fernando didn’t regret his mistake. But it was just a blow job in the shower, so maybe it wasn’t too much. ...Right?

Until Fernando felt his back falling against the soft mattress and it was all against his better judgment. No, he really shouldn’t allow this because he has to go, and they’re going to get a cold fucking in an air-conditioned room before they’ve even dried down from the bath, the towels lying forgotten on the carpet. And it was horribly wrong allowing to be fucked on his back because Sergio won’t stop looking at him that way and he’s sure he’s memorising the way Fernando looks when he screams because that’s what Fernando’s doing too.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with breakfast?” Sergio asked, even if he knew it was futile.

Fernando zipped up his jeans and looked up to where Sergio was still lying in bed, trying to remove the knots in his hair. “I have to go,” he said, his voice sounding oddly hollow to his ears. Sergio sighed and nodded. He stood up and rifled among his discarded clothes to look for his wallet.

“Here,” he said softly, slipping a thick roll of bills inside Fernando’s back pocket.

“That’s too much,” Fernando replied, but Sergio pointedly ignored him. He let his arms rest loosely around Fernando’s thin waist and kissed the other boy again.

“I want to see you again.”

“Sergio,” Fernando sighed.

“Fernando,” Sergio sighed back, pouting. And Fernando knew, he was beaten again.

“You know where to find me,” he murmured, tucking in a loose strand of hair behind Sergio’s ear. He shot him one last smile and headed to the door.

“But, how do I find you?” Sergio called out helplessly. “I don’t even know your name.”

Fernando shrugged and kept on walking, didn’t turn around because he’s lost every time he did. “You’ll figure something out.”


End file.
